Go Speed Racer
by Anime Huggler
Summary: AU. Sam works for his dad's not too awesome car shop, trying to make the days go by faster. But when a gang tries to run his dad and small town out of business, something out of this world comes to his aid..but does he need that kind of help? BeexSam late
1. Won't You Pick Up?

This all comes from the amazing hand/head of Neku! http:// neku. (no spaces)

She posted some mind blowing art (Link at end of story) of Sam and Bee via AU since...well, all stories are turning into one another! Heh. I tried giving it a shot, pretty much setting up the whole thing for many, many chapters to come! Enjoy!

It was hard to decide which one he liked better;

"Sam."

the Black model with the red bikini that had that little sea shell hanging off where the cups connected straddling the costume 2004 limited edition Knucklehead motor and handlebar chopper, or,

"...Sam!"

the Asin model with just a school girl's platted skirt that just barley covered her intimate area. She got a few bonus points cause she was shirtless while she was leaning over the navy blue hood of the 2009 Corvette Convertible... on the other hand she lost those points cause her silky black hair just happened to cover up her perfectly round breasts.

"Aw, come on Sam! For crying ou- Hello? Hello? Sparkplug's Sparkpl-" The force of the phone being slammed back on the receiver made the said holder of the name jump in his chair. Precious magazine almost falling out of his hands.

"I swear to almighty merciful God, Sam, so help you if that was the Adams' account."

Suddenly Sam was having a very hard time getting his attention to focus on his not too happy father. Kind of hard to go from super model whispering 'I want you Sam Witwicky' through her ruby wet red lips to a heavy, balding, oily, frowning man already mouthing 'Dead Witwicky Walking' while running a very nasty and dirty rag over dirty large hands. Hands that were ready to ring out his skinny little neck.

"Hmmm? What? Oh. OH!" The mess of curly hair bounced slightly as Sam shot out of his lazy posture of sneakers propped up on his dad's desk to being as alert as a chipmunk who swore he just saw a very fat cougar roaming about.

"'Oh'? That's it? You're running the business into the ground and all you can give me is an 'oh.' Seesh." Sam shrunk back into his chair as much as he could before his father shot him _the_ look. The very look he hated most, 'I'm-not-going-to-punish-you-but-I'm horribly-disappointed-in you'.

"He'll call back." Ron shot up a dirty eyebrow as Sam snapped his magazine back into place like some sort of busy tycoon. A lazy smile came across angry features when the teen carefully brought his feet back up into a desirable position. When his son figured it was ok to go back to his ladies, Ron shoved his feet back to the ground receiving an 'ooff' from his only son. "You just don't get it do you?"

"I get that you have the cheapest spare car parts this side of universe, and I get that a cheapskate like Mr. Adams will call back." Oops. Wrong thing to say. The eldest Witwicky sourly ran his hand through his hair and head, trying to sooth out his pounding headache that was slowly turning into a tumor. He was sure of it. Probably not the smartest thing to do though, as Sam smirked to himself, when Ron's bald spot was now black when he locked his hands on his hips.

"Family, Sam. Family and business. You put your business for your family first before the family business which is your family. And that very family should be your business first and for more. anyhow."

It was Sam's turn to cock up an eyebrow. He didn't need to ask, for his face already was screaming 'WHAT!?!'Sometimes trying to make sense of what his dad said made his eyeballs bleed. Ron laughed it off, shrugging. "You'll get it later. I hope. You know you're mother- Umm...you know what?" He quickly changed the subject when he saw Sam's face and eyes drop for a moment. Sam never did like talking about that subject, so Ron thankfully changed it. "Just please! Please pick up the phone next time it rings instead of having me run in here almost breaking my neck when I stepped into the puddle of oil in the garage I didn't see when you're not a foot away from it. What'da say champ?"

Sam eyed the poor phone that was probably now damaged from his dad's fit. "Fine. Now if you excuse me, page 57's blond beauty is a-calling." Just his luck that the phone rang when he said 'calling.'

'Dammit.' Sam thought to himself when he gave his dad a huge fake ass smile, and a thumbs up before answering the phone as sickly and sweetly as he could, "Sparkplug's Sparkplugs! Sam speaking! Try saying that five times fast! Ha. Ha. Ha. How may I help you!?" Ron smiled at his son. His very hard working (yeah right, who was he kidding). Well, at least he loved him and Sam answered the phone with the motto Ron had taught him. He knew that his teenager hated saying it, but it did make the whole conversation run more smoothly. The smoother the call, the better the business. Ron left Sam to deal with Mr. Adams, knowing even he can't screw up the old man's account that badly.

When Sam found out his dad had left the room out of the corner of his eye he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He dropped lazily back into his chair, head resting on the top trying to see if he could see behind him without falling over himself and swivelling back and forth on his feet.

"Yeeeeeess Mr. Adams. Your stupid muffles are still here." He gave the box marked so a swift kick out of boredom. "Huh? I said super. Yup. Yup...Yeah, still twenty bucks and fifty two cents. What? No, I'm not trying to rip you o-." Sam let out a very dragged out sigh as suddenly the deal was going badly over fifty two cents.

"Here, here. Mr. Ad...listen. Yeah. Look, Mr. Adams, Mr.AdamsMr.Adams, I'll make you a deal. Twenty bucks. That's it. ...yeah. You heard me right, only two tens,"

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose when his elbows banged the desk top in a thud. "Right twenty dollars, plus tax. Tax? Well, cause I like you, only fifty two cents." There was a silence over the phone. And for a second Sam was worried that Mr. Adams had hung up. And in that case, Sam would have to buy the mufflers himself and tell his dad Mr. Adams came by early to pick them up just he had done many times over the years. Thankfully though, Sam got an ear full of an old man laughing and going into a rant about how a good business man he was in the 1940s.

Sam removed the end piece from his mouth, "Freakin' geezer." and then promptly put it back. "Yes! Yes sir. Great. Yes, nice doing business with you too. See you tomorrow then...Bu-bye."

Sam flicked the phone away as if it was suddenly diseased.

Family and business, huh? Well, he would be doing the family a favor if the business did go out like a spark. A happy remembrance of light, before anyone could really recall it. The boy's hazel eyes traveled over to the box again. After having a staring match with it for what felt like forever, he flipped through his magazine. Something was lost though, and page 57 didn't hold any interest for him. Sure the blond with curls that looked like a red riding hood hooker with a basket of tools would have been fun to oggle at, but Sam suddenly wanted to see what that old man of his was trying to fix now.

"Sorry blondy. I'll see you later tonight, promise." Pushing the chair out from the desk, he waltzed over to the other side of his dad's shop into the garage, a poor car at Ron's mercy. The Witwicky's never did really get along with appliances, and that just made Sam wonder just why his dad was a grease monkey in the first place...

"Need a hand pop?"

"I need a miracle." The car let out a whine before a disgusting sound of metal hitting metal was heard and smoke filled the garage.

"Good job dad. I can totally see why they dubbed you 'Sparkplug' in high school." Ron smacked Sam.

Well there it is. For now...kinda. I might even re-do this part. Just testing out to see how it comes along via very cool AU plot lone. http:// community. livejournal. com/beexsam /47955.html? view 928339#t928339

That's the link (Get rid of the spaces) to see Neku's KICK ASS art from where this story came from. It's all her idea, I just helper um...write it! I'll see how she likes it, and if she does...then um...more later! Thanks.


	2. Star Racer

Chapter two!...It seemed that people liked the first on, so here's another. I would LOVE if someone here would like to be my beta. Just drop me a line if you wanna give my crazy ass writing a shot.

But here we go with more of Neku's Go Speed Racer! As always so far it's based off http//community. livejournal. com/ beexsam /47955 .html ?view 928339# t928339 (No spaces!) Woot!

Sum- Picking up from the last chapter, I felt that Sam's friend Miles got kinda jibbed in the movie. He seemed like the guy that was always Sam's friend, and then he gets dumped for a shiny piece of metal and a hot girl. Oh well! Bee's one fine ass hologram while touching himself...what? Wait. Umm...go on. It'll make sense later.

--------------Dashes! Not Stars! Woot. -----------------

Thankfully everyone around town had learned the key rule with the old car shop- "When there's smoke, there's Sparkplug. And when there's Sparkplug, please don't call the fire department and waste their time for putting out Ron's fireworks that went bad."

The first few times smoke piled out of the shop's windows and garage door, worried neighbors called the fire department. Sam was only a toddler at the time. But he clearly remembered the firemen giving a stern finger shaking and lecture to his pop. Something about being more careful to wondering how stupid can a grown man get. Now a days people were more worried about Ron's mishaps dragging some other poor unfortunate shop into the mess. Say like, Dilbert's Deli Shop to the left of them. Sadly, the Deli Shop's roof had seen better days...thanks to Ron.

Sam later found out that he had developed a chip on his shoulder for his fellow Nevadans...something about being ignored in a time that should be a crisis would do that to a guy he supposed.

A few rather old men looked up from their checker game across the street to glance over. One with a white beat up hat shook his head in disapproval and waved both Witwickys off. The other with a gut with suspenders and ridiculously thick red glasses laughed through his toothless mouth.

"What's the matter Ron!"

One of them yelled over, spit flying out of the wrinkled smiling mouth. Sam turned back to his home/shop that would smell like burning rubber for the weeks to come, not that it already didn't. "Burnt the toast again?!" They both laughed for some reason Sam couldn't understand. Apparently he and his dad were the butt of their joke. Destroyed home old man humor. Whatever.

Well, it wasn't destroyed, but still. Why poke fun? "Yeah!...Yeah...It's ok Mr. Humgguers!" Ron yelled back as friendly as he could and then turned to Sam. "Just toast..." Sam sighed. At times he wondered what God he must have pissed off to land him this life and a such a kind hearted (almost spineless) father. "Well, if it wasn't toast dad, what happened?" Sam rammed his hands into his jean pockets and watched the smoke slowly clear out into the clear sky. Ron shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against one leg watching the sky with his son as well.

"Dunno...Old car plus old engine usually ends up with something going wrong. Good thing it didn't let sparks off...I had way too much fuel in there. Heh."

"Yeah, good thing dad. Otherwise the whole place would have gone up..."

"What?"

"Huh? Nothing, nothing. Just...soaking it all in. In fact, I'm going to soak up all my sorrows up with Miles. I'll see you in a few hours Pops. Call me when my bed doesn't smell like fresh smoked road kill." Sam pivoted on his heel and headed towards his usual meeting spot with his friend.

"Will do son. Will do!" Ron saluted Sam off and waved to a few people that stopped to see just how much smoke could be in such a small area. Ron frowned though, when we noticed that he could have swore he heard Sam's undertone. Ignoring it, Ron breathed in some fresh air before going back into the stop to open up all the windows and doors.

"That makes it, what?" Miles threw back his too blond hair over his ear again after taking a sip of his double shot espresso with Mountain Dew. "Three times you come by smelling like fish and oil in the last month."

Sam's eyes were fixated on the unhealthy color of the drink that was shown through Miles' plastic 7-11 cup. Such an ugly grey... "Like it's my fault."

"Maybe if your old man actually knew what he was doi-" Sam punched his friend in the arm with distaste. Yes, he knew his father wasn't the greatest guy when it came to cars. But it was a family thing, and as much as Sam loved to admit it himself, he didn't like OTHER people pointing it out.

"Shut it. Anyway, what do you care? You're car smells worse."

Sam's town was too small to be really called a town. Or a village, but then again it wasn't all that small. At least everyone wore cloths so that town couldn't be called a hilly billy nation, or park. It was a cozy town that if anyone pointed it out on the map they wouldn't have any clue what state it would be in, let alone it was in the same state as the City Of Lights.

Everyone knew everyone which in turn was unfair to Sam. If one girl told another girl he was lame, then the whole town knew. Sam, the lame guy. Somehow though, at some times it still boggled his mind, there was Miles. Miles the best friend who was like Sam's brother. He loved dinosaurs, cars, The Terminator, and girls. Most importantly he was just as lame as Sam, and that made him in the same level.

Miles took another sip, and with a mouth full of ice worded out, "At least I have a car.."

"Hmm what? I didn't catch that. I don't speak stupid." Sam liked Miles for this reason; they could wail on each other all day, call names, poke fun, and even get into an all outfight (one which happened with Sam's broken nose getting fix by Ron himself by snapping it back in place) and in the end they would dust each other off and would still hang out the next day. But those days were soon to come to an end.

For a long time no reply came and the only thing that filled the old and beat up car of Miles' was the sound of his straw trying to suck up liquid that wasn't there. Sam stared out the window trying to catch the best glimpse of a group of cute girls hanging out in front of some theater.

"He signed them you know." Sam knew what his rather dim friend was talking about, but pretended not to hear him. Sam instead asked if he wanted to go see a movie...maybe the same one the girls were seeing.

Sam grabbed Miles' empty cup with such force he hopped he gave him whiplash. The sound was starting to drive him crazy. Miles agreed though. He knew he couldn't deny that the girl in the little blue dress was cute.

The stars over the Nevada dessert always shined brightly. They were like...well, he wasn't sure what to compare them to. He hadn't been on Earth that long. But if he had to give an analyses report back to his command it would have to be like highly powered lithium bulbs with a 3.5 energy reading at full capacity. It had to be miles before there was any sort of building with light to ruin the purity of the sky.

It was just his luck that he started his search on the wrong side of the globe. He was, literally, going in a circle. Now that he reviewed his memory banks that he logged in a few cycles ago, if he only went east at the latitude 4652.49.5.28 he would have gotten to the All Spark's energy readings 694, 217, 3924 miles ago. But it seemed that Lady Luck only worked for humans. Not that he held a grudge against her, he had never met her before.

He leaned back...well, against himself. Bumblebee was just so used to using his holo form over the past few years he picked up nearly all small human traits and rarely turned it (him?) off. And leaning against cars while waiting was one of them. The head to toe black leather covered 'human' figure tilted its head back, a soft hum filled the empty desert air as he moved. Star gazing held no interest nor joy to the optic senors, but it was better than looking at sand. After all, while searching for the All Spark pieces he had traveled the universes. Coming only a few feet away from a star or a nova was something no human would ever see in their short life time . So seeing them from millions of miles away felt almost silly to enjoy.

The alien's computer came to life and the helmeted figure turned his attention back to the inside of the car he was leaning on. It was a good thing he was in the middle of no where. If anyone saw him they would think the mob was in town and they were burying someone in the sands. The hologram walked over to his own open window and with a large amount of data and computer signals(1), made contact with the cars inner computer face. He pushed the button that chirped at him earlier to have someone talk through the radio.

It was hard to described what Cybertroion sounded like- once when Bumblebee's hologram was walking around a crowed area and his com-link came to life someone over heard it through the open car windows. One kind women suggested to the helmet wearing man that looked like the biker from Hell that his radio must have seen better days because it's picking up junk from the Soviet Union.

Bumblebee ran that logic through his processor. He traveled (by now) almost all of Earth, and he would have said, if he ever needed to explain that what his radio was spouting was a mixture of languages.

In that very description his command had told him, "It's official. Proceed, old friend."

Some sort of odd sensation ran its self over Bumblebee's circuits...joy? Relief? Maybe both. He searched all over, many times losing hope that he wasn't even on the right planet. His planet was dying and he was failing to recover the key item to help it. The helmeted figure of Bumblebee's hologram shook its head from side to side. Another human thing he picked up. He didn't need to re-call those past memory files. He figured it was pointless since now he was told it was official. The last, and only part of the remaining All Spark had been located in the small sleepy town of 'Fallen Hills', Nevada.

"But," The voice of his leader continued, calm and steady with worry. "Proceed with collective caution. The Descipticons are no where within the facility. The area as of now has a low threat level."

"Yes sir." Bumblebee responded with his aged young vocals, his hologram nodding to nobody but his image in his own review mirror

"But the All Spark's power is still dormant. Do not, I repeat, do not make any actions that might activate it. It will clearly become a beacon for Starscream and the rest to find. We also have no idea what a broken piece of the All Spark can do to the resident humans or area."

"Yes sir. But if it is activated by itself? Perhaps before I even pinpoint it?"

There was a silence that could be heard. Bumblebee heard some of Optimus Prime's gears rotating while he was functioning and putting together a list of thousands of possibilities that had an equal amount of outcomes.

"First thing would have to be to get away from the humans. Of course no one knows what it will do to an autonomous robotic organism in it's current state. It can send out a weak electrical current or, with so much raw power still within it...

"Understood sir." Optimus didn't need to go further into it with the bad outcome.

"But while it is in it's stasis, there should be no threat. It has been this long without any obscure events, and it should not now." Again, Bee's holo nodded to nobody, taking in all the information.

"Proceed with caution as stated before. Retrieve the All Spark piece and return. Raise as little awareness as possible. Engage if Desipitcons intruded and call for backup as needed.. And above all, follow Autobot protocol- Do not harm the humans. Good luck Bumblebee."

With that, the light on Bumblebee's computer system died out and turned off. Leaving the hologram sitting in Bee's driver seat, arms crossed and optics dimmed down while thinking. The hologram had Bee's own optics imprinted into the 'skull' rather than have normal eyes, but that was Bee's personal doing. He didn't want himself to be all too human anyways, not that you could have told seeing through the very dark and tinned helmet visor.

If anything else, it scarred away any thugs in the middle of the night that wanted to take a joy ride in a brand new Camero. What gang member wouldn't run way in terror when they planned to steal a parked car in the ally way with some race car driver sleeping behind the wheel...with diamond blue eyes lighting up and pulling his own gun out of no where. The ultimate security system.

Well then! Bumblebee snapped his leather calor into place and hit his boot's heels on his door and stepped into his car form. Once seated in, hands placed on steering wheel to give everyone who gave a second look a convincing performance, and he was off. The Camero's engine reeved up, and going at over 200 mph under the Earth sky with sand kicking up all over, Bumblebee was out of sight.

Once Bee found a real road, he headed towards the position Optimus had sent him.

"Fallen Hills huh?" Bee asked himself, pondering out load. He turned the radio on to his new favorite, classic-pop, and let the road go under him and the moon chase him.

Now for the hard part...to find the very small object in a thankfully small town. But that wouldn't make it easier. The All Spark was powerful, but small. And in it's none active state it's power readings as of now was pretty much blended into all the humans electrical devices. When he did manage to pinpoint the exact location all he hoped for is that it wouldn't be buried under a building or hundred miles of dessert. He wouldn't be able to transform and dig otherwise he had a higher risk of being spotted. So that was a negative. He couldn't even do it if there weren't any humans around at risk of hitting the piece and activating it. An even bigger negative. And time would be wasted with his hologram slowly digging for it with a shovel, or if it came to it, with his hands. Again, negative. The hologram tapped a few fingers on the wheel repetitively and let his microchips work themselves to come up with various options.

He wasn't that lucky, but he hopped the All Spark would just fall into his lap. Lady Luck was such a bitch.

Sam dug his foot into the ground. He suddenly felt very stupid, almost like the girlfriend of the relationship, as Miles stood in front of him a few feet away.

"Sam-"

"You should just move in with me, man...or live in your car."

" I'll send you a post card. Promise."

"I'd rather you send me cash...and a hot girl."

"Weeeeelll...I'll see what I can do." Miles crossed the distance between them and held is hand up high. Sam didn't want to look at him. It felt to him that if he didn't acknowledge the fact that Miles was leaving, than he wouldn't. But when Miles gave his shoulder a shove with his, Sam couldn't leave Miles hanging. They high fived and pulled each other into a friendly hug. Sam hung onto him for a second longer when Miles' grip relaxed and then quickly pulled away.

"You're dad's a jerk for signing those contracts and making you move." Miles nodded, his flimsy hair bobbing up and down in front of his face. "I'll call you when we get there. And you have my number man. I'll visit."

Liar. Nobody 'visits' Fallen Hills. They are either forced to live here or pass through it after using a gas station bathroom. Miles turned back to his car, waving at Sam behind his back. "I'll work on sending you that girl! Later Sammy Boy!"

"Later Miles!" He ducked into his car, beeped at his friend, and drove off. For the last time. Sam found his arm still waving slightly even after Miles was no long looking at him. He's glad they didn't say goodbye. Sam looked up to the midnight sky of his home state. All those stars seemed to be watching him. Like some sort of sick creeps enjoying his agony. They were bright though, so he guessed it was a good thing. Maybe even good luck? Like Miles not having any problems moving or whatever. Finally the Nevada chill of night got to Sam, and he pulled up his orange race coat around his face. He turned to his home (smoke free thankfully) and trudged back to his life. The very creaky screen door screamed at him when Sam pulled it open.

He had to give his dad a pity smile when he saw him passed out on the couch, old ratty TV very quite but still on, waiting up for him. Ron stirred from his slumber when he walked in, but didn't wake up. Remote falling to the floor and changing the channel from a sports review to late night home cooking. Sam didn't want him to wake up anyhow, he probably had a full day of airing out the place; where as he went with his friend and talking to (and yet still got denied) to some girls. Oh to be young again. Sam booked it up the short flight of stairs and went to his room.

Sam kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket over a spear chair. It had become a spear just a few minutes ago. That was Miles' sitting place, but now Sam claimed it as his uhh...jacket chair. He nodded to himself. Yeah, his room. His chair. His jacket chair. Right.

"God, I'm pathetic. I miss him already." Maybe his dad would let him get a dog. Someone else he could hang out with. But he already knew what his dad's response would be-" A dog? What about me!?" Messing up his own curly hair, Sam flopped onto his bed. Something he should really stop doing. The growing noise it made every night when he threw his whole wight onto it was getting worse. After staring for a moments at a poster and not feeling up to being awake anymore, pants chucked at the opposite wall, but shirt kept in place, Sam settled in for the night.

But just before sleep over took him, Sam jolted violently up when the loudest engine nosie filled his ears. It wasn't really an engine as it was a sonic boom like sound. Sam drew his eyebrows together harshly. Was that a shiver going down his spine? He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ron ran upstairs and almost ripped Sam's doors off the hinges. With wide eyes and heavy breathing, his dad slightly relaxed when his sight was filled with his son. His safe son at home...and not outside.

"You heard it too Pops?"

"You'd have to have been dead not to hear that."

Sam got out of his bed and walked over to his room window with Ron. His window faced the outside street and everyone was doing the same thing as they were. Some people even came outside to check around. Funny how no car alarms went off. Usually when a big semi truck rolls into town the vibration and noise would set off at least really old car's horns. Dad and son looked up at each other for a moment, trying to find answers within. They both looked back down to the street where their local 'Mayor' type person held up his arms to get some attention. With his bath robe swaying in the night wind he yelled out to all the awake people, "Must have been a blown fuse in Las Vegas folks! You know how one sign over there can power a small country. Everythings fine. Just fine. Threats over! Everyone please return to your homes! That means you too, Albert. Goodnight Fallen Hills!"

The major went over to Albert Nanni, who was the most paranoid man in town, and took the bat out of his hands. "But 'em aliens! Dem scarred of wood! Give me back mah bat!" The major, along with other people that over heard his outburst, just shook their heads and went back to bed. Slowly, like every night, all the lights up and down the street went out one by one.

Ron patted Sam on the shoulder. And with a grin added on, "You can come sleep in my bed if you scarred son." Sam rolled his eyes. "I think I'll mange."

Ron laughed. "Alright, but I'll leave my door open juuuuuust in case. Night." Sam nodded sleepily a few times and said goodnight to his dad once more before Ron closed the door. Hmm..something wasn't settling right in Sam. Even if that was a fuse, Las Vegas was WAY too far away from all of the town to hear such a noise. It must have been half of Vegas' lights in order to cause something like that. Even then...And just why was Sam's necklace so hot right now? Sam pulled his silver chain up and around his neck to look at his jagged fossil. It was warm to the touch and then suddenly went ice cold in his hand.

"So weird..." Sam slipped it back into place and under his shirt. Sitting up in his bed for a long while after everyone had returned home, outside was once again pitch black. Laying back down Sam's eyes refused to close and he just couldn't relax his forehead to stop frowning. Minutes crept by before Sam made a decision. Getting up again, and going under his bed to pull out his black chest, he opened it up with a faint smile. He ignored the beautiful women staring up at him with bare tops and tongues doing the most inappropriate things, and grabbed Mr. Whooly.

Climbing back into bed with stuffed sheep in tow and then having it crushed by his chest, Sam was out like a light.

Bumblebee without noticing it, passed the town he was supposed to stop in. He was caught up with all this own logic processing, that he didn't even realize how fast he was going. And when he did, he slammed on his own breaks.

"Oh slag!" Bee mumbled out. When his own frame came to a stop, forty feet away with very heavy and black skid marks right behind him, he frowned on the inside. He just passed the most quite town in the universe going so fast that a sonic boom came out his Cybertron parts. What that must have sounded like for human ears to hear...Bee would have gulped if he had saliva to do it with.

"So much for one of Prime's rules of 'Raise as little awearness as possible.'" Bumblebee reminded himself when he stared at the skid marks. It was like a line leading up to the fish. Good thing it was 2 am in the morning otherwise that would have been veeeeery bad. He would get rid of the marks before the Earth's gravitational pull brought this side of the world into sunlight, and then he would roll very nicely back into town. No fuse, no muse.

Bumblebee's hologram got out of the car and very human like, rubbed the back of his helmet shyly.

"Great. Nice job Bee. Nice job. And you're supposed to be the spy. Prime's going to kill me."

Duuuun Duuuun Duuuuuuuuh. Yeah right. Last 'set up' chapter I think. Then Biker Bee and Sam will meet, but on what grounds!? Here's a hint- not a good one for starters. ;D Again, want to beta? Just say so, your wish will be granted it! Lol. See you next chapter then.

1- I figured that would be how a real hologram would work if it ever needed to grab/touch/do anything with its own form. You can't just project something and hope that while it is clearly seen, that it would be able to start moving stuff with limbs that don't exist. So! The Tfs, being the aline computers that they are, I had an idea that if enough computer signals on top of computer signals + lots of energy readings from another life form would be able to make a hologram to some extent 'whole.' Kinda like the lasers we use now. It's only light, but with enough heat and energy to guide it, it can blow something up. See where I'm going with that...yeah. Lol. Shutting up now.


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